


Non-Toxic Masculinity

by SidneyJane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Clubbing, Conflicting Feelings, Dancing, Drinking, Face-Fucking, Harry is a bad liar, Harry looks like a rockstar, Kinda, Kissing, Light-Hearted, M/M, Morning After, Oneshot, PWP, Praise Kink, Rimming, Top Harry, Walk Of Shame, club, maybe-date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28923270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidneyJane/pseuds/SidneyJane
Summary: Harry and his best wingman, Ron, go out for a night on the town. Just as all seems hopeless, a familiar face pops up.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Minor Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger
Comments: 28
Kudos: 268





	1. Non-Toxic Masculinity

**Author's Note:**

> Evening all!  
> I had a bout of insomnia and wrote this little oneshot pwp that I really rather enjoyed. If anyone wants it, I'd be happy to write a follow up! :) 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated :P  
> Stay safe <3

“Mione, what do _you_ think?” Harry did a clumsy kind of twirl, losing his footing part way through. 

Hermione was perched on the edge of her and Rons bed, one leg crossed over the other surveying Harry's choice of outfit with the kind of sincerity that he hadn’t got from Ron. As usual, he was wearing all black, but he’d recently learned the art of layering. And androgyny. He thought he’d rather cleverly paired his leather jacket with an _almost_ completely open silk shirt. And a black skirt. He knew that this was a fashion risk, but he really felt that he looked good. 

He was starting to get nervous however, Hermione was taking a long time to give any feedback. She came up to him, and pulled the skirt up to his waist, “Always wear it on your waist, Harry… it looks far better…” she tucked his shirt in, pulling at it slightly so the gentle fabric still draped over his body, “just relax,” she said, and as he did she smiled, “there you go… don’t let the outfit wear you,” she sighed and then nodded toward the mirror. 

Harry looked at himself. If anyone had ever told him when he was a teenager that toward his late twenties he would finally find a style that made him feel powerful, he would never have believed them, but here he was. Avant-garde and androgynous, and far more experimental than he would ever have thought. 

“Ronald, why can’t you make an effort?” Hermione sighed as she helped Ron with his tie. 

“Yes, _Ronald,_ ” Harry said playfully, “Why can’t you make the effort? You are my _wingman_ after all…” he batted his eyes and sighed. 

Ron gestured toward his tie, “I am making an effort…” he grinned, and put his arms around Hermione's waist, “besides… who do I need to look good for?” 

*** 

Harry had somehow convinced Ron to come to a muggle club with the lure of not having to think about work, and the absolute fact that none of their coworkers would be there. Dance music pulsed throughout the club as they waited for their drinks. Harry had intended to get as drunk as possible, work had been hell during the week, but it was Saturday night. Party night. He didn’t have to think about magic, cover stories, or wizarding media pestering him for some kind of interview while he was half cut. The last time that had happened he had got himself into a spot of bother with the journalist and ended up on the front page - not a proud moment. 

“You look like someone who is out on the prowl,” the sultry bartender looked Harry up and down, seeing the look of surprise on Harry's face, he quickly added, “not that I’m allowed, of course, but there are some great people in tonight,” he gestured toward the dancefloor and smiled before he slinked off to serve someone else. 

“He’s not wrong Harry,” Ron took a long swig of his drink, “there’ll be somebody in here to satisfy even your predilections.” 

“You know, Ron,” Harry grinned, “I think you’re the only person to get more eloquent when they drink,” 

Ron rolled his eyes, knowing full well that Harry was teasing him, and gazed over the dancefloor, full of writhing, sweaty bodies, and smiled. People from all walks of life danced together, not caring about personal lives for the moment. 

He held his hand out, “Come on then,” Harry took it and followed him. Ever since they had had a long conversation one night about their blunders at the Yule Ball, and how much easier it would have been if they’d just gone together, their friendship had a lot fewer boundaries. They often danced together at clubs, until Harry found someone to pair off with, or until Ron wanted to go home. They had become very comfortable just expressing their admiration and platonic affection for each other, and they had no real qualms about any of it. It had been awkward at first, especially for Harry whose upbringing hadn’t exactly been full of expressed feelings and relaxed sentiments, but now they were closer friends than ever before. 

They danced, oh how they danced. Ron relished moments like this where he didn’t have to think about anything other than what to do with his hands. He contemplated shouting across to Harry that this was exactly what he needed, but Harry was too into dancing to think. His face had gone slack, a slight sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, and it made Ron smile. He always relished seeing Harry relax, he worked far too much and lived life too intensely; seeing him relax had become a personal mission of Ron’s, he’d even once booked a massage for the three of them to try and get some of the tension out of Harry’s shoulders. It worked for maybe two weeks. 

Harry knew that he would ache tomorrow. He ached now. He had really let loose, let his hair down and lived in the moment. Though this was supposed to be a mission to _get some,_ nothing had happened; no-one had caught his eye (other than the barman) but he was enjoying his time nonetheless. All of a sudden the music changed, and while he and Ron had become even closer over the past few years, this song was just a little bit _too_ close for them to comfortably dance to together, especially as Harry still kind of wanted to pull. 

Harry went back to the bar, Ron had decided to head back home to Hermione after Harry had decided to leave the dancefloor. It was getting late, but as Harry leaned against the brass bar top, the bartender came back over. He contemplated following Ron and going home, there wasn’t much for him here. 

“So how’s it going?” he was making a cocktail, and Harry couldn’t help but look at how the guy's body moved as he did. He felt himself roll his eyes, truth be told he shouldn’t have been looking at the bartender. It was wildly inappropriate. 

He sighed and shrugged, “Not good,” he looked back over the dancefloor, it was still fun, but many people had paired off and left together, “you know, I want my money back,” he laughed, and the bartender laughed with him. 

“There is someone looking at you…” he pointed toward one of the booths at the back of the club, now more visible because of the people who had left. 

Shit. 

“He won’t be looking at me for _that_ ,” Harry groaned. 

“Ah. You know him?” 

“You could say that,” Harry gestured for a shot, and chugged it back in the blink of an eye, “we have a long, complicated history.”

“Well you better get over it hun, he’s coming over,” he subtly gave Harry space. 

Harry panicked, did he make a dash for the door? Stick it out? He was sure that no one from his world would be here. 

Fuck.

He’d left it too long. 

“Potter.” 

“Malfoy.” 

A silence descended like a thick mist, enveloping them in a bubble despite the loudness of the bass beating in Harrys chest. 

The bartender poured some shots in front of them both, with a wink aimed at Harry and then once more slunk off. 

They downed the shots, and eventually Draco spoke. 

“Do you…” he bit his lip, “Dance?” 

Harry considered things, the words ‘complicated’ and ‘run’ came to mind but he couldn’t convince his legs to follow through. He settled on holding his hand out for Malfoy to take. It was almost a reflex, before Harry could even consider the fact that he was going to _dance_ with _Draco Malfoy._

He’d never really touched Malfoy with any intention, other than to fight with him, so he was shocked that his cool, pale hand felt _good_ in his own. He found himself running his thumb along Malfoys skin, just to get used to this new feeling. Harry flinched slightly when Malfoy did it back. 

All of a sudden, it was like Harry’s body had never danced before in his life. He just stood there, the weight of what was happening prevented him from moving. Draco, however, was practiced in the art of getting a reaction from Harry. He pulled him closer, his hand on the small of Harry's back, and began to move to the music that was playing. 

“You know…” he spoke low, right in Harry's ear, “dancing with someone usually requires moving,” 

Draco's voice hit deep into Harry. He had never heard, or imagined, Malfoy speaking to someone in such a way. It was like something snapped inside Harry, and he mirrored Draco’s actions. They found a rhythm, or maybe Harry found Draco’s, but it was good. So good. 

“There we go,” Draco drawled, “that’s much better,” his hand began stroking Harry's lower back, relaxing into having him in his arms. 

Harry didn’t want to admit that being praised by Malfoy of all people gave him a light fluttery feeling in his chest, so he tried to convince himself that it was just the shot that the barman had given him. He started to relax into Malfoys arms, and they began to dance in earnest. 

He leaned his head into Draco's neck, surprised at how good he smelled, the expensive aftershave was intoxicating and made Harry groan aloud. 

He froze. 

Fuck.

Malfoy began to chuckle, his throaty laugh again in Harry’s ear. He pulled Harry even closer, sliding his thigh between Harry's legs, holding him firm on his hips, “something you like?” 

That light fluttering feeling in his chest went south and Harry pulled his head away to look Malfoy dead in the face. There was Draco, eyes half-lidded, with that characteristic smirk and ruffled hair. He looked Harry up and down, his eyes lingering on his lips for just a moment too long to be meaningless. 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but closed it before any words could come out. He didn’t want to break the moment. Whatever the moment was. He leaned back into Malfoy, returning his hand to sit gently on the back of his neck. In a move that he liked on himself, he traced his fingers down Malfoys spine, eventually settling on the belt loops of Dracos trousers. He pulled Dracos hips towards him, a desperate effort to get him even closer. To feel Draco against himself completely. With every move they made, Harry could feel the deft muscles beneath Malfoy’s black trousers; the slow, pulsing moves pressed them unbearably close and it was driving Harry crazy. 

He felt Malfoy look to the ceiling, his breath hitching in his chest, faltering with every exhale, “Something you like?” Harry teased. 

Draco growled, and within a split second, brought his lips crashing onto Harry’s. They stopped moving, lost in the power of what was happening. Dracos hands caressed and squeezed every possible place on Harry's body, the desperation seeping from both of them. Their breathing sped up, the world slowed down, and the momentous fact that Harry was kissing Draco Malfoy suddenly felt like the most natural climax of their tumultuous relationship. 

Draco broke free and caught his breath, though his hand worked its way under Harry’s skirt and brushed against the soft boxers that he found there, “we should…” he was breathing hard now, and Harry could tell that he was trying to calm himself down, “we should go…” 

Harry knew that if they were to leave it just a few moments more that the display would be too obscene for a nightclub… even one in Soho. He simply nodded, the idea of not having to hold back was too inebriating. He wanted Malfoy alone, ready to devour in a heated frenzy either in his shitty flat, the back of a taxi, or even the fucking bathrooms for all he cared. 

Draco led Harry to the bar, his hand holding tightly onto Harry’s as if he was possibly going to run away, “I have to get my coat from the cloakroom,” he said, “then we’ll leave,” he turned away, wanting to be alone as soon as possible. 

Harry settled his tab, and the sultry bartender strode over, “nothing here for you eh?” he smiled knowingly, “glad you sorted out that ‘complicated’ relationship,” 

All Harry could do was hang his head, slightly embarrassed that their little bubble wasn’t entirely private. He went to the cloakroom, and as he got there, Draco was leaving with his coat in hand. They said nothing, but walked out into the now cool air of London. Harry followed Draco to the apparition point, still in silence, heart still beating faster than ever before. 

The cold air sobered him up somewhat as they stood at the apparition point. The silence had to be broken, “your place or mine?” Harry asked, his voice hoarse and so needy. 

“Mine’s closer,” Draco replied, he was still breathless, still wanting Harry more than he could comprehend. 

Harry nodded and held onto Draco's hand, ready for the pull of a sidealong to whisk him away. 

***

They had barely landed at Draco’s flat before they were all over each other again, only now, Harry was more confident. This, he could do. This, he had done a million times before. He pushed Draco back until he fell onto the sofa, and lunged at him with a practiced hunger, a need that drove him, compelled him to take over. 

Draco chuckled, “this is… this is exactly what I expected,” his mouth found Harry's neck, and in one swift, licentious move, licked a stripe from his collar bone to his ear and began sucking just below his ear lobe. 

Harry groaned, grabbing at Dracos shirt to get it off him. He was far too clothed, too covered up for Harry's taste. He wanted Draco exposed, wretched, hopeless… eager. He wanted him in any position that would speed up the whole process. It was already becoming too much. They both clawed at each other's clothes in a frenzy, and once Draco was naked, Harry didn’t much care about himself still wearing his shirt. 

“Knees,” he choked out, “Now,” 

Draco dropped, ever so elegantly, to his knees, sliding off the sofa with a devilish smirk. It would be the death of him, Harry was sure. Those big grey eyes looked up at him, pale in comparison to the blush creeping over his slender face. 

Malfoys long fingers worked Harry to a full hardness, something that hadn’t taken long after the shameless display in the club. He was raging, desperate for Draco to just get on with it, he needed to feel something before he burst. Draco, it seemed, was going to tease him until he was aching. 

In one long movement, Draco took the entire length into his mouth, without a flinch, without complaint. He knelt, like some kind of fallen angel, fully at Harry's mercy. The things he wanted to do. Draco swallowed. Harry saw stars for a brief moment. 

Harry couldn’t help but wind his fingers through that silky blonde hair, but it took every ounce of restraint to not thrust further into Draco, to make him really feel his frustrations. Without making a sound, Draco began to work Harry with an expert technique. 

Harry's head fell slack, and after a moment, he couldn’t take any more. He tightened his grip on Draco's hair and looked down to him. He simply nodded. 

With all the consent he needed, Harry began relieving himself in Draco’s mouth. It felt like nothing else, no-one else, that Harry had experienced; maybe because it was Malfoy, maybe because it was simply exquisite. Draco's mouth relaxed, he simply let Harry use him. Harry couldn’t help but watch. Draco looked like everything he had ever fantasised about: covered in spit, tears pricking his devious eyes, and the delightful sound of a throat being used. Harry had to stop, for fear of cutting the whole process too short. Draco stood, and looked right into Harry's eyes, before taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom. 

The only thing that Harry noticed about the room was the huge bed that almost filled it. Other than that, he was focused on one thing entirely. 

“On your front,” Harry said, his voice cracked, betraying how much he needed Draco in that moment. He let his silk shirt slip from his shoulders, he wanted no restraints for his planned acts. 

Draco complied, laying on the bed with one leg bent, raising his backside into the air slightly. If Harry had a camera, he’d want to snap a million pictures, but he didn’t so he did the next best thing: he joined Draco. He needed to taste him, to devour him like Draco had devoured him. He held Dracos cheeks, spreading them apart to look at his reward. It was glorious. He buried his face, and fully intended to take Draco to pieces. He worked his tongue into and around his hole, getting him ready for the headline act. 

“Oh… Oh my god,” Draco whimpered into the duvet, gripping the material with his fists and bucking back into Harry's face. 

Harry worked hard, probably harder than he’d ever bothered to before; feeling like he had to prove something to Draco. Part of him wanted Draco hooked on Harry. He wanted him to need more. 

“God, you’re so… so fucking good, Harry,” 

There it was again, that light fluttery feeling in his chest. It made his blood pound, his heart beat faster. 

He brought his head up, and pulled Draco closer to him, “do it again,” he moaned, before kissing Draco, hard and fast, he was getting so desperate, he needed this with every ounce of his being. 

Draco hummed into the kiss, “you’re so good, Harry…” 

Harry threw Dracos legs apart, still kissing him, and worked his way down his chest, stomach, all the way to his thighs. He took Draco in his mouth, doing his best to get it all the way to his throat. Dracos breath hitched, making Harry smile. 

He slid a finger between Dracos cheeks, working him there while he sucked hard. Draco had more restraint than Harry had, only committing to small thrusts here and there, he spent more time telling Harry how good he was, how divine he felt… it sent the feeling in Harry's chest into overdrive. 

Harry only finished his ministrations when he was sure that Draco was fully prepared. He pulled off, going once more to kiss Draco. 

“Lay down,” Draco whispered, nuzzling into Harry's neck and kissing him oh-so-gently. Harry did as he was told. 

Draco climbed on top of Harry, straddling him without a care in the world. Harry couldn’t help but watch as Malofy began to grind down on him, sending sparks through his entire body. Draco smiled, then leaned down to kiss Harry as he rode him. 

He started slow, both to adjust to the feeling of being filled by Harry, and to tease Harry to the point of frustration. Without warning, he dropped onto Harry with all his might, sending Harry as deep as was possible; he knew this felt good.

Harry cried out, his language almost as obscene as Draco in this moment. He sat up and wrapped his arms around Draco, holding him close as he matched Dracos pace with his own thrusts. Harry thought that perhaps this position was far too intimate for a first time with a former enemy, but he was way past caring. This felt too good. 

Draco wrapped his legs around Harry’s back, encapsulating him. They both had more purchase this way, more room to move, to try and break each other's resolve. 

Harry’s breath began to catch, he’d never been ridden like this before. He usually preferred to stick to positions less intimate, less familiar; but this was unlike anything else. Soon enough, he felt the deep sensation of his own orgasm building, he reached up and pulled Draco's hair, hard enough to force his head back. Draco laughed, clearly enjoying Harry’s reaction and knowing where this was going. 

With his other hand, Harry held Draco tight to him, stopping him from moving while he completely took over. He thrust hard and fast, desperate now to finish what had started in the club, to get what he wanted, to release his frustrations. 

“Oh, Harry,” Draco moaned, with his head still pulled back, Harry could watch the movements of Draco’s throat unabashedly, thinking to what he had done to that beautiful neck earlier, “Potter, it’s… I’m gonna…” 

Harry knew what Draco couldn’t say, and revelled in the satisfaction it gave him that Draco was coming undone under his touch. He felt Draco clench around him, his entire body seizing up. Harry smiled, willing himself to let go. 

He let go of Draco's hair, and pulled him into yet another frenzied kiss, both getting lost in the sensations building. He felt Draco’s release, heard his shout of ecstasy, and his whole body relaxed around his own. He allowed himself to let go. Burying deep in Draco as he did, he continued kissing Draco all over. He dropped his head to Draco's chest, who brought a hand up to stroke Harry’s hair. 

***

Harry laid there stark naked, his mind blank with post-orgasmic bliss, waiting for his breathing to go back to normal. To say that that was much needed would have been an understatement. He glanced over to Draco, who had fallen beside him, and smiled to himself. He had been expecting something spectacular but that was something else entirely. He basked in the silence for a minute or two, listening to the whoosh of his heartbeat in his ears and the breathing of the naked man next to him and waited for the usual wash of fatigue to come over him. 

Draco rolled over, no longer on his back, but facing Harry. His pale skin was flushed, his body languid, eyes half closed. His chest rose and fell with even, deep breaths; he brushed his hair from his face only to find that his arms felt heavy and unresponsive, he doubted he could move right now if he wanted to. Searching for warmth, he pushed himself closer to Harry, who looked like he may be in another dimension entirely, his eyes closed but occasionally fluttering slightly. His pulse was still visible in his neck, and the desire to lick it once more came over Draco. He’d have to refrain until the morning, right now his body couldn’t take more exertion. 

Harry felt Draco come over to him, so he moved his arm, allowing Draco to get as close as possible. Draco kissed his chest, just a soft chaste kiss, right near his pounding heart. It was terribly tender, so Harry wrapped his arm around Dracos shoulders, holding him to his side. His eyes still closed, he felt, rather than saw, Draco looking at him. He felt like he should say something, but this moment was so fragile, so ethereal, that he didn’t want to spoil it. 

Draco broke the moment, sure now that his limbs would respond if he told them to, “How does a pot of tea and a cigarette before bed sound?” His voice was quiet, hoarse; heavy with the implication that Harry may stay the night. 

Harry simply nodded, not having the energy to speak just yet. He felt Draco kiss him one more time, before getting up. He heard the rustle of material, and finally opened his eyes. They were heavy, there was the fatigue creeping up on him. In a slow move, he sat up. The room around him was warm and close, the air thick with their activities and sweat. He pulled the top sheet around him, and opened the door that was at the end of the bed. The cool air swept through the room, providing welcome relief and waking him up a bit in the process. 

Draco came in to find Harry looking out over the skyline from the balcony. His long hair was a mess, and he was wrapped in Dracos sheet. He put the pot of tea down on the table on the balcony and lit a cigarette. A bad habit, but one that he only indulged in after a particularly good shagging. 

He handed one to Harry, who already had his hands around a cup of tea, cradling it like it was the elixir of life. 

The air was quiet, it must have been near 4am, and London was finally starting to quieten down. There were few sounds but the spark of the lighter and the occasional draws on the cigarettes. Neither felt the need to speak, either for fear of making everything awkward, or out of the desire to not break the spell that now surrounded them. It was peaceful, the only peaceful time they had ever spent together. 

Eventually, Harry spoke as he put his cup down, “Are you okay?” his voice was low, as if the atmosphere surrounding them urged him to be quiet. 

Draco nodded, “delightfully so,” 

“I didn’t hurt you?” 

“Not at all,” Draco sidled up to Harry, wrapped his arm around Harry’s and for the first time Harry caught a glimpse of what Draco had put on - a deep navy silk robe, loosely tied around his waist. It complimented his eyes and his snowy hair perfectly. 

“Have you finished?” Harry nodded to the cup of tea and nearly extinguished cigarette, hoping that he wasn’t about to be kicked out, despite the earlier implications. The whole situation felt surreal, but calming, and he didn’t want to return to the chaos that was Harry Potter’s hectic life just yet. 

Draco nodded, and flicked the cigarette end over the balcony wall, where it disappeared in a small flash. Wizarding cigarettes, Harry smiled to himself, designed to always vanish when discarded. 

They walked in silence back to Dracos large bed, crumpled and stained from their machinations. Within mere moments, the fatigue took over them both, and they slipped into a dreamless sleep, both unsure of what the morning would bring. 


	2. The Mornings After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after the the chance encounter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So I wrote a sequel... I added it as a chapter because I honestly see myself probably writing more and getting carried away like I usually do xD If you want more, as always, leave a comment and I'll oblige <3 
> 
> Stay safe xx

**Monday.**

Harry kept his head down as he walked into the department. He clutched his coffee cup to his chest, trying not to squash the pastry he also held, cheeks still aflame from the look the barista gave him as he ordered. If he just kept his head down, didn’t look at anyone and made it to his office he could take a breather. It was just early enough that he might miss any more serious comments from Robards… or god forbid, Ron. If he could just get to his locker quick enough to change into his spare uniform, he could maybe avoid some awkwardness. 

He could feel everyone's eyes on him as he practically ran to his office door, juggling his coffee and pastry as he fumbled with his wand to get the door unlocked. So he wasn’t in uniform. So what? So he still had smudged eyeliner on and hadn’t brushed his hair in a few days. So what? They should be used to Harry looking like a mess. 

The door clicked. Shit. It was already unlocked. He took a deep breath and opened the office door, eyes tightly shut and trying to be as quiet as he possibly could. 

“You know,” Ron smirked, “Usually we spend Sunday at the burrow,” he didn’t look up from his work, keenly engrossed in some report that probably should’ve been filed weeks ago. 

Harry grimaced, his head still hung in some kind of shame, “Oh, has Sunday passed?” He tried to sound nonchalant but the guilt still rang through. 

“Yeah…” Ron finally looked up and held back a laugh, “You know, we do have to wear uniforms when we come into the Ministry,” 

Harry flopped down at his desk, letting his head hit the hard surface with a thud, “Uh huh,” his voice was muffled by his arm. 

“Then again, I suppose there isn’t much choice when you’re still wearing most of the clothes you went out in… oooh…. Two days ago,” Harry could hear the teasing tone in Rons voice. He peeked from under his position on the desk and saw that Ron had discarded his work entirely and was watching Harry with an all too amused look on his face, “Seriously, you were wearing a skirt when we went out and now you’re wearing someone else's trousers,”

“I was hoping it wouldn’t be obvious,” 

“... that you’re doing the walk of shame two days after you went on the pull and clearly haven’t been home?” 

Harry sat up in his desk, and leaned back in his chair, taking a long drink of his coffee, “to put it mildly,” 

“Do I have to beat it out of you or do I get the story?” Ron asked, he had a huge grin on his face now. 

Harry sighed, “Yes, I’m wearing someone else's trousers. How you even knew they were someone else's I’ll never guess,” He tore into his pastry, hoping that after having a grilling from Ron he could jump into the locker room showers and try to forget that this had ever happened. 

“They’re fastened with a safety pin,” Ron laughed. 

“Goddamn you’re observant,” Harry groaned, “Fuckin’ auror training,” 

“Come on!” Ron shouted, “Give me the details or I’ll actually burst, things weren’t looking so optimistic when I left the club. The next thing I know you’re not home on Sunday and no-one can get hold of you!”

“Look, I’m in desperate need of a shower,” Harry laughed, and drained his coffee; sweet nectar that it was, “You’ve got three questions and then I’m pissing off to the locker room before Robards has a go at me for turning up like this,” 

“Okay… uhh… who, where, and was it worth it?” Ron asked, counting the questions off on his fingers as he spoke, all too amused by the day's events so far. 

“Erm, get fucked, his place, and yes,” Harry stood up from his desk, and sulked his way to the locker room, praying that no one else stopped him on his way. 

“Uh… no,” Ron exclaimed, following Harry as he walked away, “No, no, no, you do not get to be cryptic,” he laughed, “You’re  _ never  _ cryptic… you will regale us with details until we’re having to force you to shut up,”

“Do I?” Harry opened the door to the locker room and tried to escape Ron's questioning but to no avail, “Hello?” he called out to the - thankfully - empty room. He turned on a shower and ran over to his locker, pulling out a fresh towel and clean uniform. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he passed and was, admittedly, slightly amused by his appearance. He had every bit the look of a well-shagged man, and it was quickly apparent why everyone had been looking at him like they had. Fuck. Maybe if he looked a little less like he’d stepped out of a magazine he would get less attention. 

“Yes,” Ron sighed, “You do, and now you’re avoiding my eye contact,” Ron made a point of trying to look Harry in the eyes only for Harry to dodge him every time. 

Harry began to strip, pulling off the creased silk shirt and necklaces that he wore with one swift movement, “I don’t know what you mean,” He threw the shirt on the bench but when he looked at it he blushed, remembering that he was wearing it when… Nope. He told himself to banish every image of that from his mind. 

“You’re the worst liar ever, Harry,” Ron deadpanned, and leaned against the lockers, “I’m not leaving until I get answers,” he laughed, “Even if I have to stay here while you shower,” 

“You’re more than welcome to watch, Ronnikins, but I’m far too worn out for anything else,” Harry joked, hoping that he could just avoid the entire thing. How would he explain who he’d spent the weekend with when that just so happened to be Draco sodding Malfoy of all people?

“Harry…” 

Harry stood under the spray of the shower, “I can’t hear you, I’m in the shower,” Harry shouted, smiling to himself. 

“Harry Potter,” Ron warned, “So help me Merlin, I will have answers,” 

Harry let the water wash over his head, washing the sweat and sex off himself, “Okay fine,” Harry spoke over the sound of the rushing water, “Someone approached me, we danced for a bit, got  _ way  _ too worked up…” Harry rinsed the shampoo from his hair, “then went back to his place,” 

“You don’t usually just disappear for an entire weekend so he must’ve been… well… good? Special, maybe?” 

“Good, yes,” Harry answered, there was no way that he would admit that Malfoy was special. Ever. 

“Special?” Ron prompted. 

“Ron, for the love of god, shut up,” 

“Oh my god…” Ron's face lit up, “You actually like this guy,” 

“Ron, I’m warning you,” Harry grew concerned, his behaviour had been out of the ordinary. Grossly so. What was worrying was how little Harry knew about Malfoy now. He had been out of sight and mind since the Post-War trials, nobody had seen anything of him, heard anything of him, for almost a decade. The fact that he was even in the club was a surprise to Harry, looking back on things, but that hadn’t entered his head on the night, nor had the shock of seeing him. Looking back, he noticed that their conversation hadn’t at all touched on where Draco had been these past ten or so years, other than where he worked. Yet it had been all too easy to feel like Malfoy hadn’t gone anywhere; he was still under Harry's skin as he always had been. 

Ron stayed quiet, equal parts annoyed and amused. It was so unlike Harry to not give details as soon as he saw Ron. It had got so bad in recent years that Ron knew more about Harry’s sex life than he did his own at times. He knew that Harry was hiding something. 

Harry emerged from the shower, wrapped in a bright white towel, and glared at Ron, “He’s not special,” he said, probably trying to convince himself more than Ron. He thought of the exhibition, of eating street food together and laughing. Two nights. That had to mean something, maybe. 

“If you say so, lover boy,” Ron joked, “but I  _ will  _ get the full story,” he asserted. He felt like he deserved an explanation, after being blown off for an entire weekend from long standing traditions of gorging on Molly’s cooking. Whenever Harry was away in some random person's bedroom, Ron always got a message that he was safe, on his way home, or on the way to work. To not hear a thing was unusual. 

***

The work day passed in a mostly normal fashion, until a junior Auror knocked on their door with a bag in hand, “Auror Potter,” she said, “Someone dropped this off for you just now,” she held the bag out, and Harry practically launched himself at her, grabbing it and shoving it under his desk. 

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, wanting this whole thing to disappear as soon as possible. Malfoy was  _ not  _ special. 

She left, and Harry tried to play things off as normal, until he looked in the bag and saw the rest of his clothes - his leather jacket and skirt. A note sat on top. 

Harry practically tore into the letter, wondering what it said. 

**_Harry,_ **

**_Hope you got to work okay this morning. I figured you’d want these back._ **

**_Send me an owl. If you want._ **

**_Draco_ **

Harry looked down at the note, it seemed a bit dry. Angry, even. Had he really left things so awkward this morning? 

“A letter from your lover?” Ron teased, head resting on his hands as he playfully batted his eyelashes at Harry. 

“Ron…” Harry warned, wondering just when his stern voice would actually work. He didn’t know what to do… or how to approach this. 

**Sunday.**

Harry awoke in a large bed, swathed in Egyptian cotton and pillows big enough to swallow your head whole. He shifted his body slightly, only to find that there was a weight on his arm. A person. 

Draco. 

The memories of the night before swam through Harry’s hang-over addled brain, and he smiled to himself. He couldn’t believe that it had really happened. 

Malfoy shifted slightly, moving closer to Harry in the process, “Morning,” he grumbled, his voice thick with sleep and undeniably adorable. Who knew that Malfoy would sound so sweet in the morning. 

“Is it?” His voice was barely audible, he cleared his throat, “Is it?” He said again, wrapping an arm around the naked form in bed with him. 

Malfoy chuckled, “Do you have anything to do today?” he turned over to face Harry, and leaned as close to him as he could. 

Harry shook his head, stroking the soft skin on Malfoy’s back. Malfoy leaned in for a kiss, which Harry couldn’t ignore. The kiss was sweet and tender, not the usual kind that Harry would share with a one night stand on the morning after. 

The kiss swiftly stopped being tender. Soon enough Malfoys hands were grasping at whatever flesh he could reach, he was whining and moaning into the kiss and it drove Harry crazy. His lithe, long fingered hands seemed to know exactly what to do to elicit the most desperate of reactions from Harry, to make him as needy as the first time they had kissed in the club. It felt like fixing an addiction, like every time Draco touched him it was some deep relief. 

Harry found his hands going south, holding Draco's taut behind, pulling his hips closer with very little effort. He slipped his hand between his cheeks, and began to finger Malfoy all over again. 

It was Harry's turn to moan into the kiss, “God, you’re still loose from last night,”

Malfoy gasped, the feeling of Harry being inside him again seemed surreal. He felt himself getting hard again, and couldn’t help the small thrusts that pushed him closer and closer to Harry, desperately needing the friction that he could provide. 

Harry obliged, not being a selfish lover by any stretch. Without him needing to ask, Draco turned over, giving Harry easier access. 

All Harry had to do was conjure some lubricant, and slip inside Draco again. He gasped, how this felt so good was beyond belief. 

“Potter,” Malfoy moaned, "Potter, don’t you dare stop,” 

Harry brought his hands up to Draco's shoulders, pulling him closer so he could get more leverage with every thrust. All Harry needed was another repeat of last night, he brought his hand to Dracos throat, and pulled him closer so that he could speak quietly in his ear, “Say it…” he almost begged, “say what you said last night,” 

Draco instinctively knew, he had gauged Harry's reactions during their session just the night before, he knew the reaction that Harry was looking for, “You’re so good, Harry,” he whimpered, as Harry continued to lazily pound into Draco. That familiar fluttering in Harry's chest returned, needing more than anything to hear that. 

“Yes,” Harry cried, “Oh, you know what to do,” he groaned, right in Draco's ear. The sound of Harry's coarse morning voice sent shivers down Dracos spine.

Malfoy turned his head, looking back at Harry, and took one of his fingers in his mouth. Such a simple act elicited such a damning response from Harry that Draco continued to suck, rolling his tongue around his fingertips. He kept an intense eye contact with Harry, willing him on, with his eyes alone. Never had a look had so much of an effect on him, there was lust in Draco's eyes, in unfettered amounts; he was teasing him, egging him on with his tongue on Harry’s finger and the dare in his eyes. 

Harry pulled his hand away, and in a move that mirrored the night before, ran his hand along Malfoys scalp and pulled, exposing his pale throat and long neck. He had given up with his lazy lovemaking, and instead moved on to a frenzied pace. 

Draco let out an involuntary cry, “Merlin, Potter… you’re so.. Fuck,” he couldn’t grasp for his words, “Gods, you’re divine,” 

Malfoy cried out again at Harry’s reaction to his words and his relentless power was unbridled, a sure sign that he was nearly finished. Draco reached down to his own erection, and matched the pace of Harry's thrusts. The grip on Malfoy's hair got tighter, and Harry's other hand came to grip Draco's throat, “Are you close?” he growled, “are you going to come undone for me? God you’re so fucking wanton aren’t you?” 

Draco whined, Harry's voice was unlike anything he’d heard from him before, he couldn’t deny that it was filthy. He loved the feel of Harry’s large hand on his throat, the implied threat of danger from him was something that had always aroused him. Malfoy nodded his response, as best as he could, before climaxing all over his hand with a loud cry. 

“Oh, you’re so beautiful, aren’t you,” Harry panted into Draco's ear, “Oh, I’m so close,” 

He set his pace to what he knew would get him off, and held Draco tight to him, biting down on his shoulder when the time came. 

Once again, Harry found himself lying breathless and naked with Malfoy, of all people. Though the usual post-orgasmic haze didn’t descend; he wasn’t drunk, or tired, so the best he could hope for was a feeling of depletion. Draco looked over at Harry and smiled, a lazy, tired smile, “Breakfast?” 

“That sounds divine,” Harry sat up, fuzzy-headed and deeply sated, “Do you have any coffee?” 

Malfoy nodded, “Sure, I’ll bring it through,” He got out of bed and put on the same blue silk dressing gown as the night before, “There’s another dressing gown in the cupboard over there, and feel free to set up the balcony for breakfast,” he winked before leaving the room. 

Once again, Harry found himself looking over the London skyline. The dressing gown that Draco had so generously donated warded off the worst of the morning air. He found that the small table had some stools tucked underneath so he pulled them out, and sat down, feet propped up on the bars of the balustrade. It did cross his mind that he was probably flashing some passers by, but Malfoys flat was so high up that he didn’t think they’d get too much of an eyeful. Though he wasn’t sure if he really cared. 

Draco came outside with a plate of pastries, a cafetiere full of strong coffee, and some orange juice. He took the seat next to Harrys and poured him some drinks. 

Harry didn’t know what to say, it had become somewhat awkward; he hadn’t exactly always been on friendly terms with Malfoy to  _ really  _ under exaggerate the point. There hadn’t been much talking until this point, and now they were both sober. Harry wondered how long he should stay before he left, though a part of him was curious to see what a weekend with Malfoy would be like. 

“You have a nice view,” he commented, “few people are lucky enough to live in this part of London,” 

“Lucky is the operative word,” Malfoy took a long drink of coffee, and sighed, “I don’t earn a lot of money, so I may have dipped into the Malfoy coffers to buy it,” His voice was still morning quiet, relaxed. It was an unusual tone for Harry to hear from Draco. 

“What do you do for work?” He still hadn’t made eye contact with Malfoy, seeing him in broad daylight and sober, outside of the bed, was odd. Not weird, not uncomfortable, but unusual. Perhaps their relations from the night before were beginning to sink in. 

“I work at the British Museum,” he said, “restoring little knick knacks and whatnot,” 

“A muggle job?” Harry asked. 

“It’s fun, routine… I get to work in a basement and ignore people so it suits me just fine,” he chuckled. He glanced at Harry, who was still gazing over London, watching the world go by. 

“Sounds pleasant,” Harry commented, he reached for a pastry and was delighted to find that they were still warm. 

“I assume you’re some kind of law enforcement, saving the world on a daily basis?” 

“Yeah, what else would I do?” Harry grimaced, “I like my job, but I’m not particularly qualified for much else,” 

Malfoy hummed, and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket on his dressing gown and offered one to Harry, who took one. He didn’t usually smoke so often, but wizarding cigarettes were sweet, and oh so good with coffee. 

Malfoy cleared his throat, “So if you don’t have anything to do today…?” 

Harry raised an eyebrow, “What are you suggesting?” he took a long drag of his cigarette. He’d usually have left by now. Probably far before now. Like, after the act was finished. Though he considered that there wasn’t much usual about sleeping with Draco Malfoy when you were drunk. 

“Well… there are some cool exhibits at the National Gallery,” he shrugged, “Or, we could stick a DVD or three on and spend all day on the sofa?” 

Harry took another long drag, then flicked the cigarette butt away watching it disappear, “Could do both,” he said with a shrug, “I don’t know much about art, though,” His curiosity about spending actual time with Malfoy was most certainly piqued now. 

Malfoy smiled, “I know plenty for the two of us,” He got up from his stool, poured another cup of coffee and went back inside, “Are you going to get dressed? I don’t think we’d be received too well if we went in dressing gowns,” he called to Harry from inside the bedroom. 

***

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, and looked around the gallery. He had never been one for art, unless it showed a gleaming motorbike or the latest broom model, but Draco looked truly relaxed here. He had wandered over to a painting and was studying it meticulously from his perch on a bench. Harry headed over. He didn’t really know what he was looking at, or how anything really showed love. He had looked and searched his deepest vat of intellect to try and feel something about what he was looking at, but kept on coming up dry. The sculptures were pretty, the paintings were pretty… pretty was all he really felt. 

“It’s very… pretty?” He guessed. 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, “this is an exhibit on  _ love,  _ Potter,” he sighed, “What does this make you feel about love?” 

Harry had tried to not think about the subject of the exhibit, he’d not usually spent the day looking at art with his one night stands the day after, and definitely not at an exhibit specifically aimed at something  _ romantic. _ He didn’t even know a thing about art, though he couldn’t deny that everything here was truly, well, a work of art. 

“Erm…” he hesitated, “well…” he sat on the bench next to Draco, and then let himself really look at the painting, trying to study the vibe that the painting gave him, “there’s something kind of, I don’t know, sad about it?” 

Malfoy smiled, “I could go into a whole spiel about why that's correct,” he looked at Harry with a glint in his eye, “but I won’t bore you,” 

Harry grinned, surprised that he was something like right, “Bore me, you seem like you’d enjoy it,” An intrusive thought wormed its way into Harry’s head - was this a date? Oh lord. He turned his attention back to Draco, for fear of tuning out and not listening to a word he was saying. 

“It’s  _ Astarte Syriaca _ , painted by one of the original Pre-Raphaelites, just after his wife died... the model used was his good friends wife who, rumour has it, was also sleeping with the artist,” he continued to stare at the painting, “It shows Venus, the goddess, in three incarnations, the one at the front being the most western ideal of her. She stands in this pose that mirrors Botticelli’s famous Venus, but then stares at the viewer with this suggestive look on her face,” Malfoy mirrored her pose with his hands, “some say that this painting was a way for Rossetti to tame a goddess, to encapsulate her in oil and put her on display for all to see and use,” he looked again to Harry, “unlike usual depictions of women at this time, he has her looking right at us, inviting us into whatever she wants…” Harry couldn’t help but watch Malfoy as he passionately spoke about this as if it was his lifeblood, as if art was something he cherished above everything else, “she entrances the viewer, with her full lips and strong body, she was everything that the Victorian ideal was  _ not,  _ which just continued to mystify the contemporary viewers you see,” 

Harry looked back to the painting, and guessed that he saw it in a new light. A strong woman looked back at him, almost daring him with her eyes to join her, “Well,” he said, a bit lost for words, “I guess you really like art?” 

Malfoy laughed, “Just a bit…” he bit his lip, “But really, one can’t get through polite society without knowing just a little bit about it. And this…  _ this _ , is really the epitome of love, like the exhibit strives for. She embodies the artists feelings completely, it says more about him than anything else...” 

“I’ve never been one for polite society,” Harry mused, ‘or  _ love _ ’ he thought to himself. Indeed he looked out of place, dressed in all black, eyeliner smudged around his eyes still, wearing borrowed trousers and a silk shirt that he just couldn’t be bothered to do up completely. 

“Yes well… we can’t always be rockstar aurors who save the world every day,” Malfoy teased, “some of us have to work our way up,” 

Harry shook his head, and continued through the exhibit, though he found himself being drawn to the mysterious lady in dark blue staring into his soul. 

***

They arrived back at Draco's flat, well past lunch time, and Harry hadn’t even considered that it was Sunday and he usually had plans. They had stopped for street food, walked by the river, and eventually decided that they needed some more time alone after getting a bit too frisky on the South Bank. 

Draco flopped onto his leather sofa in an effortlessly enticing pose, and held his arms out for Harry to join him. Harry obliged, refraining from jumping him right away. 

“So… what should we watch?” Malfoy asked Harry, carefully playing with his messy black hair. 

“Something you’re not too invested in,” Harry said darkly as he climbed on top of Draco and started to kiss his neck. 

“Oh,” Malfoy gasped, “Well…” his hand wound its way further into Harry's hair, “I think that that can be arranged,” u7

Malfoy broke free, regrettably, and put on whatever DVD fell into his hand, and immediately resumed his position under Harry. 

The day passed too quickly. They watched one DVD, ignoring it soon after it was put on to disgrace Malfoy's grandiose sofa with the friskiness that had earned them some looks on the South Bank. 

A quick coffee break and another DVD later, they decided to test the kitchen counter, dining table, and windowsill. 

After dinner they baptised the balcony under the cover of darkness, with Draco bent over the railing. 

They collapsed into bed, yet again, in a post-orgasmic bliss, and entwined in each other's arms. Harry was wondering yet again what the morning would bring, knowing that he would have to leave to go to work. He ignored the feeling of unease that arose, and the uncertainty surrounding this  _ thing _ with Malfoy, and the maybe date that they’d been on. He was operating outside all of his norms now, there was no precedent to follow. 

**Monday Morning.**

Harry woke up early, Draco was still curled up beside him, hard fast asleep. He glanced at his watch, and to his horror saw that it was just after 8 o’clock. 

“Shit,” he exclaimed, trying not to wake Draco. He pulled on his shirt, and the trousers that he had borrowed from Draco the day before and cursed his tardiness. 

Draco stirred, “what’s going on?” he grumbled, noticing that Harry was almost fully dressed, “Are you going?” His voice was still thick with sleep, his hair fluffy and mussed. 

Harry felt awful, Draco looked so adorably innocent, “I have to go to work,” He leaned down and planted a kiss on Draco's forehead, “and I’m going to be late if I’m not careful,” he looked around for his socks, swearing under his breath, “trust me I wouldn’t usually leave like this, but I really do have to go… I will get the bollocking of a lifetime if I’m not careful,” 

Malfoy sighed, “alright,” He looked around, his room was a mess from their weekend together, “Do you at least have time for breakfast?” There was a hint of hopefulness in his voice. 

Harry was still looking for his other sock, hurrying more as time went on, missing the hints that Malfoy was trying to drop, “I don’t,” he pulled his socks on, “I really do have to go… real life beckons now,” He left the room and then shot back into the bedroom, “I  _ really  _ do have to go,” 

Draco nodded, “Alright then, we can’t all have three day weekends I guess,” 

Harry smiled down at Draco, and rushed to give him another kiss, “I’ll leave you in bed then and head off, okay?” 

Draco nodded again, “Okay,” Draco fell back to his pillow with a huff. 

It would seem that that was it. Over. His flat fell silent. Draco eventually left his bed, still wrapped in the sheet that smelled so much of Harry and his sweat. The living room was a mess, DVD cases strewn haphazardly on the coffee table, cups abandoned, and, most glaringly, Harry’s leather jacket and skirt left on the floor. 

The whole thing was like a whirlwind. A storm called Harry had entered his life and left as quickly as he had arrived. 


	3. Busted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Ron and Hermione go back to the club...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! 
> 
> As per your requests, here is another chapter :D I really appreciate all of your feedback, y'all are amazing <3 
> 
> Stay safe, let me know if you want more xx

The club was, once again, filled with sweaty, sexy people. Harry had been convinced to come back to this one, he knew that Ron and Hermione wanted to see if his mystery man would turn up again; but Harry was an Auror… he could throw them off if Malfoy turned up. They stood at the bar, looking over the crowd. Music thumped through the building, the bass threatening to vibrate the place apart, smoke machines filled the room adding another level of mystery to the crowd. Lights flashed blue and red, then when the bass dropped, strobe lights filled the room; the energy levels were off the scale. 

Harry loved it. 

He loved the sweat, the smells, the feeling of just being another body in the masses wanting to let go. He was apprehensive tonight, however, he didn’t have the usual drive to go and drag a random person into his bed. Harry stayed at the bar while Ron and Hermione danced their way to the dancefloor. The hunky barman from the week before wasn’t there, so Harry found himself without conversation, instead he watched Ron and Hermione as the next song came blasting through the speakers. 

Ron immediately pulled Hermione close, drawing her in by her waist. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply as they moved. Ron’s hands grasped at Hermione's dress, holding on so tight it looked like he might rip it right off her. Harry looked away, they were so sickeningly happy together. Harry would never have that. Lust, yes.  _ Love _ wasn’t his thing. His mind trailed back to the maybe-date with Malfoy and he shook the thought from his head. It was a one-time thing, a one-night stand, a filthy weekend. 

He ordered another drink, and shot it back as soon as it was set down in front of him. 

‘What a waste of an outfit’, Harry thought. As he looked over the crowd, there wasn’t anything he wanted. 

Ron came running back, and pulled Harry onto the dancefloor. He clearly wasn’t allowed to not dance. Ron held Hermione in front of him, and Harry behind him. The more he danced, the more he could take his mind off Malfoy. Harry put his hands on Rons shoulders, and danced close, while Ron held Hermione's waist. Hermione reached up and held Harry’s hands. To anyone looking, they probably thought Ron was the luckiest guy alive. They danced close in the mass of grinding bodies, but Harry felt his tension slipping. 

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Harry shouted to Ron over the thumping music, and practically ran back to the bar. For a brief moment, he didn’t want his tension to slip. He wanted to feel the weight of his decisions last week, he wondered if he should have left on Sunday morning. He ordered a drink, something strong and sweet, and drank it in one go. 

“Do all of your wardrobe choices leave little to the imagination?” A voice behind him purred. He didn’t need to turn around to see who it was. 

“Not all of them,” he spoke, “My work uniform is pretty uninspiring,” Harry couldn’t help but smile. He turned around and came face to face with Malfoy. He looked divine; the embodiment of temptation. He wore a ripped t-shirt which exposed enough of his body to have Harrys pulse racing just a bit, and the trousers that Harry had borrowed the week before. All thoughts of regret disappeared from Harry's mind. Instead he realised how lucky he was. 

“Dance?” He smiled, he looked cocky, as if he knew that Harry wouldn’t have a chance. 

Harry wrapped his arm around Malfoys waist, but led them to a section of the dancefloor away from Ron and Hermione. Not that he was particularly worried that they would see he was dancing with Malfoy, they were far too engrossed in each other. 

Pulling Malfoy close to him felt like the most natural thing, his narrow waist was made to be held, “Do you have any idea what that outfit does?” Harry spoke in his ear, inhaling that expensive aftershave again. 

Malfoy slid his leg between Harrys, “Probably the same thing that yours does,” Draco groaned, he slid his hands under Harry's jumpsuit, the unbuttoned chest giving him easy access. The denim was soft against his skin, giving Harry that ‘painted on’ look. He could feel the muscles moving under his hands as Harry danced, the raw power reminding him of how Harry could take total control. 

Harry's hand held Draco by the back of the neck, and he pulled him in for a filthy kiss. It was all tongues and sloppy as anything, like they had needed it for the entire week and were only now fixing their addiction. Draco moaned into the kiss, and Harry moved his hand from Draco's waist to his thigh. He pulled, entwining Draco around him even more. 

They broke their kiss, both breathless and flushed. This is why Harry hadn’t wanted a randomer, he realised, he needed someone who knew precisely what to do. 

“I want you,” Draco panted, “so bad,” 

Harry nodded, and pulled him in for another kiss, his hand slipping under the tight trousers that Draco wore. He paused when he felt that Draco wasn’t wearing underwear. It was that kind of night, then. 

Without warning, Draco pulled the top of Harry's jumpsuit off, exposing his bare torso. He ran his hands over Harry's bare skin, kissing and nipping as he went. He sucked just under Harry's ear lobe, eliciting a moan from Harry. 

Harry pulled Draco's head back, encapsulating him in another searing kiss, “I need you right now,” he growled, unable to hold back. He was flooded with the memories of how good Draco felt in those Egyptian cotton sheets, how he had let Harry take him. 

Draco took his hand, and pulled Harry to the edge of the dancefloor, toward the toilets. Within a flash, they were locked in a cubicle, and Draco had dropped to his knees. 

With Harry's tight jumpsuit already half off, Draco had no difficulty in removing the rest, just enough to get his mouth around Harry’s already unbearable erection. Harry's head thudded against the door as Draco began to suck. He wound his hands into the silky soft strands of Draco's hair and guided him along, knowing that they wouldn’t have long before Ron and Hermione noticed he had been gone for far longer than he planned. 

Draco moaned as Harry pulled tighter on his hair, using him to get off. 

“Oh, goddamn you’re divine,” Harry groaned, “yes, just like that,” 

Draco's hands held Harry’s backside tight, steadying himself while Harry thrusted into his mouth. He had missed this, the feeling of Harry using him. He needed it. 

Harry removed a hand from Draco's hair, he was getting perilously close and he didn’t want to advertise what was going on to the whole of the club bathroom. He sunk his teeth into his fist, getting ready to fill Draco's throat. Malfoy's eyes had never left Harrys, and seeing the reaction from Potter, he knew that he was doing such a good job. 

Harry began to tremble, his knees going weak, his thrusts becoming jittery and off kilter. He growled as he came into Draco's hot mouth, sinking his teeth deeper into his flesh. His eyes fluttered closed, his breath steadied, and he dropped his hand from his mouth. 

Draco dragged Harry in for a kiss, jumpsuit still gracing the bathroom floor, he whispered, “Here’s what’s going to happen, Potter…” he kissed Harry again, “You’re going to go back out there like nothing has happened-” he was cut off by a whine of protest from Harry, “- and then, you’re going to come to mine, and  _ really  _ take care of me,” 

Harry nodded, but still drew Draco in closer, holding his firm body against his, “I can do that,” he moaned, “I can totally do that,” He was completely entranced by Malfoy, he would have done anything he said in that second. 

With a brief kiss to settle their goodbye, Draco apparated from the toilet stall, and Harry found himself alone, with little but a promise to keep. 

He gathered his jumpsuit around his waist, not bothering to pull it up all the way. He returned to Ron and Hermione on the dancefloor, still caught up in their sensual dance. He held Ron from behind, and joined in for a brief moment. Malfoy was still on his mind, and the things the rest of the night promised were just a few seconds away. 

“Ron, I’m gonna head off,” he called over the beating music, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

Ron was completely engrossed in Hermione, dancing close and getting increasingly ready to take her home himself, just nodded his response to Harry. Clearly he was going to be able to leave early with little consequence. 

He rushed to the cloakroom, picked up his jacket, and got to Draco's as quickly as he could. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door. He leaned against the frame, one hand supporting him, the other holding his jacket casually by his side. 

To his surprise, Draco answered the door completely naked; it made Harry's mouth water, “Nice to see you could make it, Potter,” 

He turned and went into the flat, leaving Harry stood agape at the door. Harry shook his head, took a deep breath and entered the flat, chucking his jacket on the first surface he could find. Malfoy had already sauntered through to the bedroom, and Harry couldn’t follow him fast enough. 

The sight that met him, however, wasn’t one that he had been prepared for: Malfoy was spread eagled on the bed, already working himself open for Harry; putting on a display. Harry's knees were weak, he drank in the entire show. 

“Are you going to come take care of me, Potter?” Malfoy drawled, “Or do you need an invitation?” 

Harry wasn’t going to give Malfoy the satisfaction of having control, that wasn’t his style. So he dropped his jumpsuit, and lazily began to stroke his budding erection, “Carry on,” he said, his voice deep and coarse, “Don’t stop until I tell you to,” 

Malfoy whined, but arched his back to let Harry get a better view, “How could I possibly say no to that?” He panted, obliging Harry. 

He carried on fingering himself, working himself toward ecstasy. His back arched, desperately trying to get any angle so his fingers could go deeper, it was no use, “Please, Potter,” he begged, “Please come fill me up,” he needed Harry more in this moment than he ever had, “You’re so good, I need you right now,” 

“I didn’t say stop,” Harry choked, watching the wanton display that Malfoy was so happily performing for him. He carried on with the lazy pace on himself, letting himself really enjoy what he was being allowed to see. 

Draco was writhing now, desperately seeking to get deeper inside himself, to get to that point where pleasure would overcome, overthrow his entire system and take over. He couldn’t get it alone, “Harry…” he whispered, “Please, please, I need you,” His pleading voice was too different from mere moments ago. 

That had the intended effect on Harry, who oh so desperately sought out any kind of praise. The fluttering feeling in his chest that he got from it every time, always fuelled him to go ahead. He lunged toward the bed and kissed Malfoy with a fervour he hadn’t yet employed. He grappled for Malfoys hands, and when he found them, he pinned them above his head.

He took his other hand, holding Malfoy with just one, and carried on teasing his hole, “Do you want me?” he growled. 

Malfoys smile was feral, “Take care of me,” he kissed Harry, grabbing his lower lip between his teeth and sucking. 

Harry didn’t need more than that, Malfoy had already passed being ready for him, so he slipped his fingers out, and pushed his slick erection into him. Harry watched intently as Malfoy hissed, then laughed and bit his lip. With every thrust, Malfoys face was a picture, spurring Harry on to repay him for the blowjob in the nightclub. Harry wanted to savour the hot, slick heat of Draco, but his desire to do whatever would make Draco praise him took over, and he continued his sedated deep thrusts to give him that. 

He let go of Malfoys hands, in order to better feel the man beneath him. He wanted to have Malfoys body mapped so he could never forget it, he wanted to know how every bit of his skin felt, how his muscles moved, how he’d react to his body being touched. Malfoy wrapped his legs around Harry, encouraging him to go as deep as possible, he wanted to be completely full. He took one of Harry's hands in his, and guided him to his erection, and they soon began stroking it together. 

Harry had known from the first night they spent together that whatever he was doing with Draco was different; different to whatever he had done with other people, different to anything he had really experienced. It was always more intimate, more emotional… he usually just got what he wanted and left, but the curiosity surrounding being with Malfoy was ever growing. 

Malfoy caught Harry in another kiss, making delightful sounds in his throat as he slowly came undone, “You’re doing so well, Potter,” he groaned, “Oh… Oh, I’m so--” he squeezed his eyes shut, but sought out Harry’s lips again. He peppered him with sweet kisses, and soon enough Harry felt the hot streams of Draco’s release over both their hands. The clenching was almost too much, and within just a few seconds, he filled Draco to the brim for the second time that night. 

They stayed in that position for a few moments longer, foreheads touching, breath mingling in the air between them as they panted from exertion. Harry slowly slid out of Draco, and lay next to him. 

So many feelings swept over him, so he lay there with his eyes closed in an effort to stay focused on the moment. 

Malfoy sighed, and put his arm over Harry, holding him like he was the most precious cargo he could find, “cigarette and tea before bed?” 

Harry nodded. There was that implication again, that he would stay. That he  _ should  _ stay. Why Harry felt like it was only right that he stay, was a mystery, but the thought of going back to his crappy flat almost drove him to repulsion. Of course he should stay here, in thousand thread count cotton sheets, drinking Malfoys tea and smoking his cigarettes. This time though, he knew that he would have to make it to the Burrow the next day, or he really would get the inquisition of a lifetime from his friends. 

He got up and opened the doors to the balcony, just as he had last time. He wrapped himself in the same sheet, and looked out over the same skyline as before. It was all becoming familiar, routine, but in the best possible way. Almost to the point that he didn’t want to do it with anyone else. 

Draco’s arrival pulled him from his - quite frankly - worrying thoughts, and placed a cup of tea in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. He had a very satisfied look on his face, which made Harry blush, “Are you staying?” he asked quietly, leaning against the railing and taking a long drag on his cigarette. 

“Yeah,” Harry spoke quietly, “I have to leave in the morning though, I got enough grief last week,” he chuckled. 

Malfoy nodded, “Alright then,” 

***

Monday came around, and luckily he hadn’t had any questioning this week. Clearly, not blowing off his family had been a good idea. This did bring the question to Harry’s mind of: what the hell was he doing? Where was this going? Was Draco a fuck buddy? He shook the thought from his head. Twice at the same club was a coincidence. That was  _ all _ . Though he made a mental note of his conflicted feelings from the night previous, it was as if being with Malfoy in person broke down all of these barriers that he had unknowingly put up. His resolve weakened every time he was around, and made Harry want to spend more time with him. 

“Draco Malfoy is in the bullpen,” Ron said, eyes wide as he looked through the window of the office door. 

“Yeah right,” Harry snorted, working his way through whatever report was in front of him. He wasn’t really paying attention. 

“I’m serious Harry!” Ron sounded panicked, he hadn’t seen or heard from Malfoy in around ten years, he didn’t - of course - know that Harry had become intimately familiar with Malfoy’s comings and goings. 

“Wait, really?” Worry flooded through Harry. There could only be one reason why Malfoy was here - for him. 

Harry jumped up from his desk, sending his quill flying, and ran out into the bullpen. He zeroed in on Draco, and grabbed him by the arm, leading him to an out-of-use interview room. 

“What’re you doing here?” he gasped, wide eyes and worried. This couldn’t happen. This was his real life, not his love life. Which, frankly, he didn’t regard as his real life - how could he? 

“Nice to see you too,” Draco flinched, “I wondered if you had time to go for lunch…” Draco trailed a finger over Harry's bicep, making Harry shiver. 

“Oh, you can’t just come to my work,” Harry groaned, leaning into Malfoy and inhaling that oh so attractive, expensive aftershave, “and we can’t just go out to lunch…” 

Malfoy wrapped his arms around “Who said we had to go anywhere but mine?” his voice was sultry and so tempting. 

With all the conviction Harry could muster, he broke free of Malfoys grasp, “We really shouldn’t,” 

Malfoy looked at him with those big grey eyes, full of lust and deviance, “really?” he pouted. 

God, Harry was having a hard time resisting, “Yes, really,” still, he kissed Malfoy, in in full view of the interview room that had monitoring spells over it, not that he particularly cared at this present moment in time, “I can’t just leave work, but I tell you what…” he whispered in Malfoys ear, “Meet me after and we’ll grab food and come back to mine,” he sighed, “We can do whatever you want then,” 

Malfoy, while disappointed, seemed somewhat satisfied with Harry’s compromise, “Fine…” he pulled back from Harry, but still kept his hands entwined with his, “I suppose we’d have longer together anyway,” he winked at Harry and made his way out of the room. 

Harry banged his head against the wall - that was too close of a call. 

“So?” Ron asked when Harry eventually got back into their office - he may have had to calm himself down a bit, “What did Malfoy want?” 

“How would I know?” Harry asked. 

“You went into Room 2 with him…” Ron said, as if it should have been glaringly obvious, “I was watching,” 

“Oh…” he had to come up with something quick, “He... wanted a meeting with an Auror. I thought I should take care of it,” 

Ron eyed him with suspicion, “Why not just send a letter?” he asked, “Why come here directly? And why did you run over to him?” 

Harry drank his coffee in an effort to do something with his hands but didn’t really know how to get out of this one. He said nothing, and instead tried to busy himself with his paperwork. He silently cursed Malfoy for showing up in his real life, why did Draco have to come to the Aurors department? The lines between Harry's personal life and his  _ actual  _ life were getting too blurred, if it carried on Draco would become part of his real life and he wasn’t sure that that was a good idea. He internally shuddered at the thought of potentially bringing Draco back to the Burrow on Sundays, or introducing him to his family as his  _ boyfriend _ . No. Just no. He kept his love life firmly away from his real life for a reason. 

Ron got up, and stood in front of Harry’s desk, hands on hips, “And why did he look so satisfied when he left? I wouldn’t be that happy if I’d just arranged a meeting,” He sat on the edge of Harry's desk, with his back to him, “Unless…” he trailed off, and at this point, Harry knew he’d figured it all out. Ron was by no means unobservant. He braced himself for the outcome. 

“Unless what?” Harry asked, he tried to hide the nervousness in his voice, but Ron knew him too well. 

Ron jumped triumphantly off the desk, and punched the air, “Unless  _ Malfoy  _ is your secret lover and the one that’s been making you go all weird lately,” 

“Weird? I’m not weird…” Harry tried to defend himself. 

“Holy shit, I’m right,” Ron laughed, “You didn’t even try to deny it!” 

Harry sighed, “Well I guess the cat’s out of the fucking bag,” 


	4. Maybe-Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco finally talk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening all! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this instalment of what was once a oneshot xD Nothing explicit happens in this chapter, which I know is shocking, but I promise there will be more to come <3 
> 
> Stay safe, as always xx

Ron sat back at his desk, a triumphant smile still plastered across his face. He stared at Harry, shook his head, and carried on with his work as if nothing had happened. 

“Wait… so that’s it?” Harry asked, expecting Ron to go off about Malfoys past, where he’d been for the last decade… something. 

“What? You expected more?” Ron asked, “Mate no-one’s heard anything about him for near ten years. No articles, no scandals, no troublemaking…” he shrugged his shoulders, “He’s basically a ghost… hard to have an opinion on that one really,” 

“What about everything… else?” Harry wasn’t so naive to think that Malfoys past meant something. 

“I’m not going to hold a grown man accountable for his actions as a teenager,” Ron said, “That was a long time ago, everything turned out okay and like I said… He hasn’t done  _ anything  _ in the last ten years to suggest that he’s even bought the wrong brand of bog roll. I don’t think his heart was in it when he was in Hogwarts,” 

“... because he buys the right bog roll?” Harry asked. 

“Shut up, you know what I mean. He hasn’t put a foot out of line since the trials, and honestly, I think that speaks volumes,” 

Harry did feel a huge amount of relief, if Ron knew and didn’t have an opinion on it, maybe -  _ just maybe  _ \- this separation of real life and his love life could end.  _ Maybe _ . He wouldn’t rush to make that the case, he held his real life very close; he’d worked hard to be more than  _ Harry Potter _ , and he didn’t want to make more headlines by bringing someone into it. 

“Honestly… I’m glad you know,” Harry said, “Now… if you still want all those details…” he smirked, and waggled his eyebrows at Ron. 

“I’m gonna pass on that one… it’s different when you know the bloke,” Ron laughed. 

Just as soon as the office had been disrupted by the revelation that Malfoy was Harry’s lover, everything went right back to normal. It threw Harry into more turmoil. 

***

Harry waited outside the Ministry, going over scenarios in his head about what Malfoy was going to do when he saw his ride home. Harry didn’t suspect that Draco had ever been on a motorbike before, but he couldn’t wait to have him on the back. Even if Malfoy flat out refused, there was no way that Harry was going to leave his baby on the streets of London, disillusioned or not. 

Harry leant against his bike. He was out of uniform now - cloaks didn’t mix with motorbikes - and he was really ready to take Malfoy out for some food. He admitted to himself that he was excited, perhaps spurred on my Rons non-reaction. He’d made sure to dress up a bit, he wanted to match the image of his beautiful, sleek bike. He wore his leather jacket (of course), super tight black skinny jeans, and some chunky heeled boots. At first he wore the boots only on nights out, until he’d realised that they were perfect for wearing on the bike as they gave him the perfect position to change gear without his foot slipping off the peg. He’d cheekily added the same silk shirt that he wore when he first hooked up with Malfoy, wondering if he’d see it and have a reaction. 

He was drumming on the fuel tank, making little tunes with the rings on his hands, when Malfoy stalked over to him. He looked Harry up and down and smirked. 

“Well, I’m glad we’re not going out while you’re in uniform,” he drawled, Harry noticed that his eyes were stuck on the motorbike, “What is that?” 

Harry smiled, “Oh this…? This is Bess,” he stroked the well worn leather seat tenderly, “my one true love,” he pulled his helmet from the floor, “they’re as beautiful as bikes come,” 

“I’m not getting on that,” Malfoy shook his head, “I’ve seen the way people ride these things,” 

“You haven’t seen how I ride,” Harry grinned at his innuendo, and winked at Malfoy, “come on, get on,” 

“I don’t have a helmet,” he protested. 

“Oh no, if only I were a wizard…” Harry rolled his eyes, and pulled a second, duplicated version of his helmet from the floor, “perfectly safe, now get your arse on the back,” 

Malfoy took the helmet cautiously and turned it over in his hands, “I’m not sure about this, Harry,” He looked at his clothes, unsure that they would be suitable for a bike, when he felt Harry's magic surround him. Perfectly safe… That’s what Harry had said, he felt the protection charms wind around him. 

“Do you trust me?” Harry asked, realising of course the irony of the question given their chequered past. 

“Of course,” Draco replied with no hesitation, and with a deep breath, he put the helmet on. Harry followed. Draco pulled his coat around himself, fastening it right up to his chin, he’d be damned if he left himself to the mercy of windchill. 

Draco tentatively straddled the back of the bike, “Where do I put my hands?” 

“On me, baby,” Harry's voice was muffled by the sound of a black bandana that he had pulled over his face in an effort to shield him from the wind. He hadn’t realised that he’d used a pet name until Malfoy wrapped his arms around him; he was thankful that Malfoy couldn’t see the blush slowly creeping onto his face. 

He started the bike, the low grumble of the engine vibrated below him, and he felt Malfoys grip tighten, “first time?” Harry called. 

He felt Malfoy nod against his back, “yeah…” he still sounded apprehensive. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy,” he patted Draco's hand, “There’s nothing to worry about, I promise,” 

He pulled away from the pavement, and made his way to the main roads. Driving in London sucked, and he often wished he could bring Sirius’ bike to work but it just wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught with it. As Harry wove in and out of traffic, he felt Malfoy shift and hold on tighter when traffic approached. 

“We’re on the road out of London,” Harry shouted over the noise of the traffic, “I’m gonna have to put my foot down a bit,” 

He felt rather than heard Malfoy chuckle, “Just don’t kill me and you can do whatever,” 

Harry had never liked motorway riding, much preferring the open roads of the countryside, but he always enjoyed opening the throttle, the feeling of speed and freedom reminded him of flying. 

After a good ride, they arrived at a little bikers cafe, a favourite of Harrys. Harry pulled up and shut the engine off. Malfoys arms were still tight around him as Harry kicked the stand under the bike, “You  _ can  _ let go, you know,” he chuckled. 

“Sorry,” Malfoy grinned, “that was.... Exhilarating,” 

Harry grinned, and patted the bike, “I know,” he laughed, “Oh how I know,” 

They went into the cafe, and Harry walked straight up to the bar to pick up the menus. Malfoy went right to a table, tucked away in the corner. The place was charming, in a very niche way. Registration plates and bike posters were dotted around, fairy lights hung over the bar, and several well worn sofas faced a big television. Draco watched Harry casually chat to the barmaid, laughing at something she said. He looked comfortable here, and Draco realised that this could be Harry letting him see a slice of his ‘real’ life. Whatever that meant. 

Harry walked over to the table, two drinks in his hands, menus tucked under his arm. He gave one of each to Malfoy and settled into the chair with a sigh. 

“It’s not exactly haute cuisine, but I promise you, Frances is one hell of a cook,” he grinned and skimmed the menu, though he put it down very quickly. 

“I guess you know what you’re having already?” Draco nodded at the menu in front of Harry. 

“Yeah, well…” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, “I come here a lot,” 

“Anything you can recommend?” Draco didn’t know how to approach Harry’s apparent nervousness. 

“The burgers are pretty good and the chicken is to die for. Save space for pudding though, the milkshakes here are killer,” 

Draco nodded. Soon enough the barmaid came over, and took their orders. Harry got a burger, Draco went with the chicken. 

Without something to do, Harry found himself not knowing what to say. He knew what he  _ wanted  _ to say; he had so many questions about everything that was going on between them but he didn’t know how to approach the subject. 

Luckily for him, Draco spoke first, “So is this part of your ‘real’ life?” He sipped at his drink, looking at Harry over the glass. 

Harry nodded apprehensively, “Er, yeah. I don’t usually… I don’t often  _ like  _ to bring people here,” 

“Why not?” 

“Well, I have a strict rule that my love life and my real life don’t mix,” 

Draco had picked up on the hints that Harry had laid down since their first encounter. Though he didn’t necessarily like it, he was well aware, “Why?” 

Harry rubbed the back of his neck again, then fiddled with the pendant on one of his necklaces. He sighed, “It’s not so cut and dry. I don’t know if you’ve realised but over the last few years the press coverage about me has died down…” 

“I don’t read that crap,” Draco shook his head, “I’ll occasionally get a Witch Weekly, but I don’t keep up,” 

The barmaid came over with their food, and Harry smiled widely at her, “Cheers Brooke,” he straightaway thew a chip in his mouth, “Well, after Gin and I broke up, I couldn’t do anything without the media following me,” he took a bite of his burger, “they were ravenous… followed my every move, took photos of anyone leaving my house. One week there was a two page spread listing all the details of anyone they thought I’d slept with since the breakup…” 

Malfoy raised his eyebrows and nodded, “So you simply didn’t give them anything to write about,” 

“Yeah, I essentially hid my love life as best I could. The whole thing was hard on Gin at the beginning, then I got  _ so  _ many angry letters and calls from the people who were featured in that spread. Of course, there were a lot of… well… a lot of people looking for hook-ups so they could brag about it to the media,” Harry shook his head, “I decided that my love life would never interact with my real life again, it was the only way to shut the Prophet up,” 

“Do you…” Draco hesitated, pushing his food around with his fork, “Do you ever see that changing?” 

Harry sighed, “Maybe,” 

Draco looked up, a smile on his face, “Really? Why?” 

“Well, Ron found out about… this, us,” Harry motioned between the two of them, “and he didn’t react,” 

Draco took a deep breath, waiting if Harry was going to say more. 

“It made me think that  _ maybe  _ that could change,” Harry mumbled. 

“Why only maybe?”

“I’d have to really know the person before I brought them into all that,” Harry sighed, “I’d have to have no doubts,” 

“But you could see it happening one day?” 

“Yeah… if they were okay with being torn a new one by the media,” Harry shrugged, “if they were okay with both of us being pestered for a year or two,” 

Malfoy nodded, “So you only kept the two apart to protect the people you were seeing?” 

“To protect them and myself,” Harry fiddled with his napkin, “It puts a strain on any relationship,” 

“I can imagine… have you ever been close to letting someone in?” Malfoy didn’t want to sound too hopeful, but the truth of the matter was that he had always had a thing for Harry, and having him in his life, for however brief a moment, had meant a lot to him. 

“Only recently,” Harry held Draco's hand in his own, “but there’s still so much that I don’t know,” 

Draco dropped his cutlery, and took a deep breath, “what do you need to know?” 

“We don’t have to do that now,” Harry said quietly, he pulled his hand from Malfoy’s, “there’s time for it later,” 

“Erm, no… Mr Potter, later I have plans for you,” Malfoy half-joked, “Ask me anything you want to know,” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” 

“Where have you been for the last few years?” 

“Well, after the trial I spent some time in France, I did a couple of degrees then decided it would be safe for me to come home,” He sighed, “I wanted a more muggle job, a muggle life… like you I wanted to separate myself from the Media - they don’t know a jot about me now - then I found that I rather enjoyed my muggle job in my little office in the basement…” He shrugged, “I don't know, I never felt the pull to return to the magical community after everything,” He sighed again, “I know that they’d straightaway focus on the mark on my arm and the past, they’re horrendously bad at letting people be,” 

“Yeah I get you there,” Once again Harry was finding that he and Malfoy were incredibly similar. The first time that had happened was after the war, he had come to realise that they were both chosen by Tom Riddle to act out their own specific roles in the war. Draco had been chosen to be the poster boy of the darkside… Harry was merely a pawn. He didn’t often think of the war anymore, he had separated that from his real life too, “So you’ve just been working, all these years?” 

Malfoy nodded, “Just living my life,” he smiled, “It’s been very fulfilling; going to galleries whenever I want, reading… occasionally going out to clubs,” he smiled at Harry at that part. 

Harry smiled, then quickly turned serious again. He took a deep breath, “If this… whatever… between us goes anywhere,” Malfoy sat up straight, “the media and everything would be hell,” 

“What  _ is  _ happening between us, Harry?” 

Harry bit his lip, “I have no idea,” he shook his head, “I just know that I feel drawn to you. I live my life at work and at home with the express intention of never letting myself feel anything for anyone so that my life, and the life of whoever I’m with, won’t get turned upside down…” he took a deep drink, “but then I’m with you and I just don’t care, it’s like I finally see something that’s good for me and I want it. You’re under my skin, always have been, only this time it’s making me… I don’t know… irresponsible?” he rubbed the back of his neck again, “I’ve never stayed longer than a night with someone, not since Gin and I ended things. I’ve never seen the same person twice for fear of being followed to their place… I’ve never invited anyone back to my flat,” 

“Well I suppose I have always been a bad influence,” Malfoy chuckled darkly, “I’m sorry I make you feel that way, putting everything at risk and all that,” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Harry shook his head, “I couldn’t keep it up forever,”

“Living two lives is incredibly difficult,” Malfoy commented. 

A brief silence descended as they carried on eating, Harry felt as though a weight had been removed from his chest. He felt like Malfoy wasn’t going to just run off if he said something stupid. It seemed that something concrete was being created, like the foundations of whatever was happening was completely solid and he had nothing to be afraid of. 

“What about you… what do you want?” Harry asked, realising that he had been talking about himself and his own problems. 

“Honestly,” Draco thought, “I want to carry on living my routine life,” Harry shrunk back a bit, wondering if he had been too forward with his assumptions, “but I want to live it with someone else… I want to share my life with someone and feel like I’m wanted,” He trailed off, wondering what to say next, “I want long days in with someone, watching crappy television and getting each other off on the sofa,” he sighed, “I want days out to museums, and weekends away at the coast… I want everything that a quiet life has to offer with someone that can change things up every now and again,” 

“Does…” Harry thought about what he was going to say, “Would you want… me?” He couldn’t look at Malfoy. For the first time in years this was as close as he had got to considering something more serious with somebody. 

Draco lifted Harry’s face so that he was looking at him, “Yes,” was all he needed to say. 

“Really?” 

“Potter, I have always liked you. Always trusted you. Even when times were at their worst, I trusted you to pull all of us out of it,” he shook his head, “If only the walls my dorm at Hogwarts could talk…” 

“You mean that?” 

“I let you take me out on that blasted thing out there!” He laughed, “Of course I trust you,” 

“What about… everything else?” Harry hedged, “Could you put up with it all?” 

“It’s not like we’d be jumping into this, right? We’re not making a formal announcement to the Prophet… and I told you, I’m happy living a quiet life until the time comes, besides, there’s not much else the media could say about me that they haven’t already said,” He drained his glass of his drink, and pushed his half empty plate away from him. 

“So… we’re what? Taking things slow?” 

“Let’s say dating. We’ve already jumped taking it slow, Potter,” Draco smirked. 

“As simple as that?” Harry asked, wondering if his life was going to change with just a sentence. 

“As simple as that,” Malfoy agreed, “Now, you promised me a milkshake, and as requested, I’ve left space for pudding,” 

Harry laughed and nodded, “Well alright then,” 

Harry went over to the bar, and Draco watched him from their table in the corner. The realisation that he was  _ dating  _ Harry Potter sunk in and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. That rugged, skirt wearing, motorbike riding man was going to change his life completely; he just knew, but he was completely okay with it. Everything about him was captivating, from the way he tapped his heeled boot against the brass footrest of the bar while he waited, to the way he cared so much about the people around him that he had cut his life in two. 

Harry came back over with a milkshake. 

“Just one?” Draco asked, “Aren’t you having one?” 

Harry whipped out two straws, “This is now officially a date,” he smiled, “we’re sharing, shuffle over,” he pulled Draco’s chair from where it was to be closer to him. 

“Oh that is so cheesy,” Draco laughed, but put his straw in the milkshake regardless, “Chocolate?” 

“Everyone likes chocolate, and trust me, Brooke makes the best milkshakes this side of London,” He took a long pull on the straw, grinning as he did. 

Draco drank up the milkshake, it was good, he had to admit. If he let go of the straw, it would stay standing in the middle of the thick shake, “You know, this may not be enough for the two of us,” 

“What? How? I can barely finish one of these on my own!” Harry laughed, then watched in awe as Draco almost drained the glass. 

“That’s how,” he laughed, wiping cream from his lip. 

“Oh that’s rotten,” Harry said, but drank the last of the milkshake, “How do you not have brain freeze?” 

“I guess I’m immune,” Draco smirked. 

“I’ve never seen a milkshake disappear so quick,” Harry laughed, “Or is this just your way of getting to my place sooner?” 

Draco shrugged coyly, “However could you think such a thing of me,” He tried to sound innocent but he couldn’t disguise the intention in his voice. He was desperate to see where Harry lived. 

“Come on, then,” Harry stood up from his chair and held his hand out, “I’ll never hear it be said that I don’t spoil people,” 

Once again, Harry relished the feeling of having Malfoy on the back of Bess, pressed against him and holding his waist tight. The bar wasn’t far from Harry’s place, which was completely intentional. 

He turned down a backstreet, and pulled up to a shabby looking garage. He tapped Malfoy’s leg, letting him know they were here, and they both got off the bike. Harry wheeled the bike into the garage, and took off his helmet. He held his hand out for Draco’s and locked them up in the small building. He was nervous, he hadn’t shown anyone but Ron and Hermione his place because it was never supposed to be shown to his lovers. 

‘Had he remembered to tidy up?’ He wondered to himself, ‘Or was Malfoy about to walk into an absolute tip?’

“So, where do we go from here?” Malfoy asked, looking around the area, there didn’t appear to be a front door. 

“Yeah, access to the flat is from the street, I have to come round back to park up,” Harry took Malfoy's hand in his own and they walked around the corner to the main road. 

Malfoy grinned, “You live above an off licence?” 

“It was the only place with a garage,” He shrugged. That wasn’t entirely true, but he didn’t want to live in a big house when it was just him. He tried to hide the fact that he had to jiggle his key and kick the door to get in, suddenly acutely aware of the difference between Malfoys swanky modern flat at his bachelor pad above a shop. 

Harry took his jacket off in the hallway, throwing it on a half ripped leather chair. He quickly peeked into the living room, confirming that it wasn’t, in fact, a tip. With a sigh of relief that for once his place was something like maintained, he kicked his shoes off and did a running jump through to the sofa. 

“Come through, there’s room for both of us,” he called. Malfoy came into the living area and the look of surprise was evident. 

“This is…” he struggled, “Cosy?” 

“It was my bachelor pad, then I decided to move in entirely,” Harry shrugged, “I do have a place in London, but it’s too big for me alone,” 

“It’s very distinctively decorated,” Malfoy motioned toward the jukebox in one corner, then to the front end of a motorbike that doubled as a breakfast bar. 

Harry smiled, “Well, I’m a distinctive person,” he went over to Malfoy and took both of his hands in his own, “Don’t worry, the bedroom is far more normal,” 

“I don’t see why you didn’t take me straight there to be honest,” Draco smirked, and pulled Harry closer, kissing him with a kind of tenderness that he didn’t entirely intend on doing. 

“Well, I didn’t want to be presumptuous,” Harry smiled, “But your wish is my command,” He put his arms around Dracos waist and picked him up, with very little effort. Draco’s laughs rang out through the flat and Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself as he carried him back out into the hallway, then through a door that had a tiny model of a broom hanging off it. 

Harry’s bedroom was mostly filled with a double bed, though a few clothes racks lined the far wall. His bed wasn’t made, pillows and cushions were chucked half-hazardly onto the duvet, which was crinkled and hadn’t been straightened in days. Fairy lights glinted above his bedhead, and photos were tacked to the wall at random spots. He dropped Malfoy onto the bed, and smiled down at him. 

“Oh yes, this is much more of what I imagined,” Malfoy smiled, he looked closer at the photographs, “Are these all motorbikes?” 

Harry cleared his throat, “Yeah,” he laughed nervously, “If you look closely they’re all from long rides I’ve done,” he rubbed the back of his neck, he felt horrendously exposed. 

“I love it,” Draco breathed, “This is all so… you,” He smiled, “So wonderfully you,” He pulled Harry into his arms and then chucked him onto the bed next to him. 

Harry cleared his throat, “Well, I’m glad you like it,” 

“Now you did say that I had no idea how well you rode…?” He teased, and started to undo his shirt. 

This was Harry’s comfort zone, getting Malfoy as naked as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering (and because I love bikes so much myself) Harry's bike, Bess, is a Triumph Thunderbird, in black :) 
> 
> And yes, the bike is a 'they', bc why not? xx


End file.
